


Dancing.

by millygal



Series: Moving On [2]
Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10622031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: My Captain, my Captain. - Sequel to Wanting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ship wide kink here people, ship wide kink!, Voyeurism, Het with a splash of slash and possibly a threesome later ;) Serenity happened.
> 
> This is for the ever lovely theatregirl7299 who requested, "I want a sequel. I want Mal to come to Zoe and tell her he knows she watches and they have a soft interlude that kind of celebrates Wash." this is the result and the first time I've written Het in a while ;) Hope you like it bb ♥ the fic in question that she wanted a sequel to was Wanting which I posted earlier :) Thank you to jj1564 for the beta and encouragement, love you hun ♥

Zoe hears tell of a time where music was a staple of the every day. A time that thrumming beats made the world turn and people smile. She remembers her Gammy telling her about standing in halls full of feet stomping and voices singing in unison.

It's been a couple'a ages since anyone gathered for the appreciation of the hummed word or beats too heavy to carry alone. Melodies that haunted and lifted and washed away all sins.

As she stands, naked and glistening, ebony skin coated in a fine film of sweat and dust, she tilts her head and smiles, remembering moments she and Wash danced together alone in their bunk.

Is that a betrayal, a sin all it's own, remembering her long dead husband whilst her Captain lays hands on scarred flesh just aching to be touched?

Music, strange thing to think on as a set of foreign fingers probe and pluck and prance across her skin, but Zoe's heart is singing as Mal shows his love for her and her dearly departed. Perhaps that's why she's ruminating on the idea of double stepping in time to a group of people all loving on the same shiny thing.

"Sounds like an oddness, I know, but Wash wouldn't want you alone, and cryin'. I know Zoe. Your scent hangs heavy whenever Jayne and I dance. I _know_."

If she were capable of blushing anymore, if she even knew _how_ to feel shame after all these years out in the black scraping a living, she'd be beet red and burning.

The Captain knows she likes to watch, and apparently he doesn't pay it any mind. Perhaps even enjoys the idea of it.

Mal grips Zoe's chin from behind, dragging her head back, exposing her throat with it's jumping pulse giving away the level of want coursing along her veins.

Zoe wonders, not for the first time, what it'd taste like having Jayne _and_ Mal against her lips. Would they complement each other, would they fight for dominance on the tip of her tongue?

Mal's deft digits make quick work of her coherency as he delves deep within the folds of her warmed flesh.

There's no real urgency to the movements between them.

Zoe can't even remember how this turn of events came about. One minute she's smirking at the thought of Mal's annoyance over her defiance being taken out on Jayne, who she's sure would've loved the whole idea of it, the next she's butt naked and at the whim of a man who can play her like a harpsichord.

There's a small mirror in her quarters, only one, and out the corner of her eye she catches a glimpse of the two of them together; Mal's strength and beauty up against her womanly curves and wicked smile, and she realises Wash was right, the road never travelled. The path never walked.

It sounds so ass about face but the idea of Mal worshipping her in honour of Wash's passing, in order to keep her whole and here and happy, it's a fitting tribute. Fucked up but fitting.

She silently begs for Mal to pick up the pace, to ravage and rend and rip asunder the veil of tears she's been cosseted by since Wash's loss, but he refuses.

He'll take his time and she may as well enjoy it.

She _will_ enjoy it.

As Mal lays her down, turns her in his arms and lowers her gently to the bunk, Zoe spots a familiar smirk flashing at her from above.

She supposes it's only fair, what with her nightly enjoyments being all about the two men now separated by her naked body.

Half of her wants to crook a finger and invite Jayne down, the other, the far more flash part of her is quite happy to be watched, to give a show, to let him drink his fill.

One day they may just do the 'Three's a crowd' thing, but for now, the scent of Mal's sweat mingled with the tartness of her arousal hanging heavy in the air is enough for Zoe.

She suspects it's enough for Jayne too.


End file.
